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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27519838">The Days After</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hammarbomber/pseuds/Hammarbomber'>Hammarbomber</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Days After the Final Depression [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Aeromorphs, Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 05:14:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,544</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27519838</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hammarbomber/pseuds/Hammarbomber</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A post-Collapse world caused by a second Great Depression.</p>
<p>A hunted race, a stalked man, and things thought fictional made real.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Female Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Days After the Final Depression [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2011363</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Days After</p>
<p>Written by Hammarbomber on FurAfffinity.net</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It had been unexpected. Unpredicted, even. A second Great Depression, and no Third World War to bring about wealth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I had been born a good score -a score chronologically speaking is twenty years- before the banks went bankrupt, people panicking to get what little money that was in their accounts into their hands. Others bought up guns and ammo, selling them at thrice the weapon's original equivalent value to those who could purchase them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then the riots. God, the riots. People didn't storm storefronts and government buildings like they thought. They stormed houses, banks, and farmfields. Raided cabinets, slaughtered housepets, hunted what little wild and feral life was in cities.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>People started banding together to find food, drifted from Chicago and Indianapolis and other major cities, following the highways. Some became no different than Immortan Joe's faction, others, the Followers of the Apocalypse. Some still, became obsessed with machinery. Not like with the AdMech from Warhammer 40k, and not like the Brotherhood of Steel.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I had only heard rumors of these 'plane people', as less imaginative wanderers called them, and had seen works of them on the internet before.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aeromorphs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Portrayed with beach balls for breasts and phalli that can only be described as cannons, they were...... Interesting, works. The ones created by God knows who after the collapse lacked them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I was on a scavenging trip for meats and medical supplies for my hometown, Valparaiso, when I heard the crunching and warping of metal, nevermind the sound that had preceded it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hello?” No response.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Anyone ther-” <b>K'THOOM </b><span>as a skyscraper started collapsing, burning three floors up. It had been a site for several clans' destruction at the hands of Junkers, madmen who had replicated the C4 plastic explosive used by most militaries before. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“SHIT!” was all I let out as I ran south, the spire of glass and steel plummeting downwards, the radials at the top pointing southwest. 'Apparently that wasn't as sound as I thought. Glad I got out of there this morning.'</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>CRSHSHSssss</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It had been several days since the tower's collapse, glass dust covering the ground like snow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I had gone back to investigate what I could, and maybe free anyone caught under the rubble. As I approached, I could hear..... something.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> “</span>
  <span>someone give me a hand here! Rat's sticked under!</span>
  <span>” a male voice had shouted out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Me, being a kind-hearted man at my core, had made footsteps towards the presumed two, just barely able to make out what he said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Another sound, this time one I recognized: the blades of a helicopter in flight. And they were approaching, quite quickly. Ducking to the west side of the street, the only side without a boarded-up entrance, I concealed myself as best I could behind the shelves of a burnt out cornerstore.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> “</span>
  <span>Aw hell, it's one of them! Rat, you're on your own!</span>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “</span>
  <span>Kalash don't leave me here!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>I'm not getting turned into one of them!</span>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “</span>
  <span>FUCK YOU KALASH! FUCK YOU AND THE BOSS! IF IT WEREN'T FOR YOU, SHIT-FOR-BRAINS BOOMMAN, WE'D HAVE GOTTEN THAT VALER AND HE'D BE THE ONE BURIED, NOT ME!</span>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>What I heard shortly after, I can't quite describe.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(perspective change, third person view)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The blades had stopped, followed by footsteps.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cnch, Cnch, Cnch, Cnch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> “</span>
  <span>NONONONO NOT THE FA-</span>
  <span>” VRRRRRRRRT. Metallic tinkling, a characteristic sound of empty casings falling to the ground.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A lone Mi-24 Hind helimorph stands above what remains of the man's skull, nothing more that a pink paste among the rubble.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(Perspective Change, Mi-24 helimorph)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Valer? What did they mean by 'Valer'? Anderson from Valparaiso?” I had thought aloud, walking away from the Junker whose face I eviscerated with the 12.7 minigun in my forearm.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>'I know I saw a mop of ginger go into a building on my way down, it looked like whoever they were was going to try and help them.'</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Let's see,” I said as I looked around, trying to find where that man could have gone. A quick glance around had revealed only one place without a 'porch', as much as the recessed door and ramp can quantify as one, that he could be hiding in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Anderson! I know you're in there!”</p>
<p>(Perspective Change, Anderson)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Anderson! I know you're in there!” a distinctly feminine voiced called out, from the only exit of this formerly-cornerstore-about-to-become-my-grave.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> 'Ooooh shiiiit. She knows who I am, I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucked, </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <b>fucked, </b>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span class="u">
      <b>fucked</b>
    </span>
  </em>
  <span>!' </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At this point I am near-panicking, again, as I heard tales of them in action, and that report from her trait weapon doesn't help matters if she wants to slay me, and I know for a fact I don't have the endurance to get her over the edge if she wants to lay me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> “What do you want?” I had responded, meekly coming out of hiding, all 5'5” of me, pausing mid-step at the -dare I say it- </span>
  <em>
    <span>supermodel </span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <span>that towers over me by a good foot.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her lifting blades folded behind her like the wings on a Victoria's Secret clothing model, her shoulders softly rounded and I estimated to be thirty inches, contrary to the descriptions I heard of Hind aeromorphs. Her breasts a large D, nipples hidden by pasties bearing a symbol I hadn't seen before, a roundel of orange and a ring of blue surrounding it, upon which a green-eyed black dragon sat. Her hips were wide, I had guessed 34 inches, and her waist the narrowest point upon her humanoid anatomy, which I had guessed (incorrectly, in retrospect) to be 27. My eyes couldn't help but to go lower, past her hips, down to her intimate areas. She had donned some sort of G-string, made from an old Indiana state flag, the bottom of the torch directing one's eyes to her thighs. More accurately, the two-inch-wide gap between them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“ANDERSON!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes?!” I was snapped out of my reverie of her body by her shout, a slight metallic timbre to it, sounding like she spoke through a tube amp.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You were staring.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sorry. It's..... Not every day one sees an aeromorph-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Helimorph” She had interjected, a tone of annoyance in her voice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My bad. Let me restart that comment,”</p>
<p>“It's not every day one sees a helimorph, let alone one with the body of a Victoria's Secret supermodel.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well,” she started, the tube-amp timbre was barely noticable under her D-flat voice, “I've had my eye on you for some time. About a decade, to be exact.” rocking back onto her heels, holding her hands behind her back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Waitwaitwait, what?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh come on, you should be able to figure out who I am. Although I didn't like how you just vanished from school one day only to contact me through social media a good three years later.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“ALEX?!” I had shouted, eyes going wide at the fact my high school crush was standing in front of me, and I had not realized it until then.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(Perspective Change, Alex)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“ALEX?!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yep!” 'God he's cute when he flusters' I replied, putting a slight jump into my response. “Aaaaaaaannnnd, the reason I'm tracking you down is because aeromorphs, which helimorphs are a subtype of, are getting rarer. At least in mature instances.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span> “Rare</span>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>r</span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <span>? How? And why did you specify 'mature instances'?” Hiram asked, stretching out a hand and gesturing to all of me, trying hard not to look at my breasts.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You know the rumors where aeromorphs can kill twenty men before suffering even a minor scratch?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span> “They aren't rumors. We're being hunted by... </span>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <span>. We don't know who, but we </span>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <span> know they have weapons that can kill even A-10 aeros for good, and they have something in them that allows them to be resurrected within five minutes of having their brainshtem shot out!” I had responded, the timbre I try so hard to hide making itself evident, as well as the accursed accent it imparts.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Holy shit. A-10 aeros are tanky as all hell. And are you alright? You sounded like you have Foreign Accent Syndrome.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I'm fine. It's due to the change. An aero, fresh from conversion, has a heavy accent from the language of the designers of the original model. It only really comes out in 'veteran' aeros, those who have been mechanimorphs for five years or more.” I replied, regaining some composure. “The hunters, they..... do something to newhatched aeromorphs, undo the change their parents underwent. We don't know how, but those are the only aeros that survive their assaults. Not even a two-month-old is safe from their wrath.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Several minutes have passed before Hiram spoke up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know who's hunting you guys down.” he stated, hands balled into fists, knuckles white.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Who?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“They're calling themselves 'Deniers of the Singularity'. Some sort of AdMech-like cult out of the Museum of Science and History, as well as other museums along the Lakeshore. They've shot at the Junkers whenever they got close, and the only ones who can challenge them are ex-military with looted war machines. Only saving grace is they hadn't shown interest in the world outside of their museum save for trading books they've written up, which are a load of bull, and knick-knacks from the gift shops for food and water.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Greeaaaatttt.......” I had exasperated, putting a palm over my right eye, slowly letting it slide down. “Any idea how to contact these ex-military groups?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not really. We can try Wings of Freedom, an anti-slaver group that's stationed out of Porter County Municipal Airport. There's no guarantee the guards are going to be very warm to you, assuming they don't try to shoot you on the spot.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That's not very reassuring.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It's because there are rumors going through town about aeros kidnapping kids just entering puberty. That's not true, is it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not sure about other wings, but the one I'm from wouldn't allow that, even from other ones. We're just outside Springfield farther to the south.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“See if your commander-slash-leader-slash-alpha is willing to move you guys to PCMA. Might get the Junkers off our backs, and get you guys a steady supply of food. Half our harvest spoils due to too much to go around, even with gratuitous shares.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Really?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yep. Potato crops rotated with soybeans. We've varied the species of potato to avoid a repeat of the Potato Famine of 1845. I'll see if Costas is willing to split it as well.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I knew Valparaiso wouldn't be affected much by the Day, but I wasn't expecting it to flourish. Maybe I should've asked for my wing to be started there instead of Springfield.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>(Perspective Change, Hiram Anderson)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span> It's been two weeks since Alex and I have met again, and the Junker attacks have gotten more audacious, </span>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <span> being backed by Immortan Joe's Emmesaries, damn Mad-Maxers. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Junkers!” the call came up, from one of the watchmen on the wall</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Understood! Get the Skeeters up on the walls, and the RK1905s focused on their cavalry!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes sir!” a private from Campus City, a shantytown that included the rundown apartments over by the Valparaiso University, returned, sprinting for the Walmart Barracks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I had just gotten my Trapdoor Caplock Springfield from the guard racks in the West 30 Gatehouse when the War Rig attempted to ram the doors out. A God-damned War Rig.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Loading! Someone get a hold of Wings of Freedom, they've got a damned War Rig!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A WHAT?!” A sergeant yelled out in disbelief.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It just rammed the doors! What else do you think the Emmesaries would try ramming concrete-and-steel doors five inches thick with?!” I retorted, aiming out a ground-floor gunslit at the driver.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <b>K-THOOM, </b>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>and the far side of the driver's head blows open, gray matter splattering across the remnants of the 'armored' glass.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“War Rig disabled! Gatling Gunners, deny them access to the cab!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes sir, with pleasure!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>thwopthwopthwopthwop</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>thwopthwopthwopthwopthwop</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>thwopthwopthwop</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span> “Sir? What </span>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <span> that sound?”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sir?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span> “</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Alex you beautiful butcher.</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span> “</span>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sir?</span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <span>”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Our cavalry, and our reinforcements.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>thwopthowpthwopthwop</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Engage that war rig Hawgs! Leave not one Junker alive!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Understood Flight Admiral!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Whhhhhhhhi</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>iiiiiiiii</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>iiiiiiiiiii</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>iiiiiii</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <b>BRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTT</b>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dear God they're-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I hear you say slurs or 'plane people' I'll demote you on the spot sergeant!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Understood Watch Commander Anderson!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“War rig destroyed, Flight Admiral!” an A-10 calls out, a thunderpoon glancing off his back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alex, down here!” I let out, waving a hand back and forth atop the ramparts. “Make a clear space on the highway for her!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Thwopthwopthwp thwp thwwp...... <br/><br/></p>
<p>“Hiram!” Alex shouts out as she lands, flight blades folding as she stands fully.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alex! Hhrmhc... Alex, it's good to see you again.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Same here. Good thing we moved then, otherwise we wouldn't have a safe haven.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Costas didn't fully approve of the idea at first. Had to point out that having air superiority would make battles like this one far, far easier to win. Not to mention less costly on manpower. So is Flight Admiral a mid-rank title ooorrrr?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> “Chieftain, basically. </span>
  <em>Acting</em>
  <span>, chieftain.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Acting? Where's the rest of your wing?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Above the cloud cover, not getting involved in the battle.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fair enough.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sir?” the same sergeant I threatened with a demotion asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What is it?” I had responded with a hint of annoyance in my tone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sir, they're nude.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> “NMMMMMmmm....... The reason </span>
  <em>all,</em>
  <span> or almost all, aeromorphs are nude is because their </span>
  <em>anatomy and capabilities simultaniously demand they be nude and prevent them from wearing comfortable clothing, </em>
  <em>
    <b>sergeant.”</b>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sorrysir!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But..... why?” This time, a private.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> “</span>
  <em>Because</em>
  <span>, clothing produces an immense amount of drag at trans-sonic, or super sonic, speeds, basically speeds that can outrun a </span>
  <em>bullet</em>
  <span> from </span>
  <em>before</em>
  <span> the Day. And I'll say this: The black powder weapons we use today are far, </span>
  <em>far</em>
  <span> slower than metallic-case ammunition.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are they always like this?” Alex inquired, shifting most of her weight to her left foot and resting her left hand on her hip.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sadly, yes. They were too young to remember the Internet......... Aaaannnd now I feel old. Despite not being 35 yet.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Damnit now I feel old too.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright, let's count up casualties and dead, see how we faired this time.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Waking Up Different</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hiram woke in a place he didn't recognize, unsure of how he got there as the pieces fell into place.</p><p>He was sure of one thing when the last one clicked: He wouldn't be the same again.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CONTENT WARNING:  DESCRIPTIVE MEDICAL PROCEDURES OCCUR IN THIS CHAPTER. THIRD PERSPECTIVE CHANGE IS THE BEGINNING, FOURTH PERSPECTIVE CHANGE IS THE END OF THE CHANGE.</p><p> </p><p>YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Waking Up Different</p><p>sequel to 'The Days After' by Hammarbomber on FurAffintiy.net</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It had been three weeks since the Valkyries, a surprisingly mostly female Aeromorph Wing, had settled at Porter County Municipal Airport alongside Wings of Freedom. The medical staff for the Valkyries showed a surprising amount of mechanical knowledge on WWII aircraft, despite only having five aeros of different models from that time period. Hiram and Alex have caught up with each other, learning how the other came to be who they are, and more.</p><p> </p><p>Alex had plans to surprise Hiram on a day that was going to change his life forever, and the lives of the Valers, Valkyries, and the crews of Wings of Freedom. This, is the tale of that day.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It had started like any other day for Hiram, a slow waking. Only, his surroundings were different.</p><p> </p><p>(Perspective Change, Hiram)</p><p> </p><p>“Nnmf”</p><p> </p><p>I had sat up after waking, not realizing the change in scenery until I had reached for my hairbrush. A sterile, white room is what I saw, not my disorganized, yet somehow organized, sand-colored walled quarters.</p><p> </p><p>In this..... Containment cell, there were four cameras, one in each corner, watching me intently, a single red light flashing on each.</p><p> </p><p>“Where the hell?” I had trailed off, glancing around for a door, or any indication of one, to no avail.</p><p> </p><p>“CAN SOMEONE EXPLAIN WHERE I AM?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Damnit.”</p><p> </p><p>That's when I heard it, some sort of hissing, like opening a shaken soda bottle slowly enough.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck!” I started pounding away at the walls, hoping for some sign of giving.</p><p> </p><p>I kept pounding, and some sort of gas kept flowing in.</p><p> </p><p>More pounding on the walls, and more flowed in.</p><p> </p><p>More pounding, but slower, wearier.</p><p> </p><p>Slower.</p><p> </p><p>Slower, until I was too groggy to stand.</p><p> </p><p>(Perspective Change, third person)</p><p> </p><p>Hiram collapsed, slumped against the wall.</p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, in Valparaiso, Alex couldn't find Hiram, and no evidence he had been abducted. She ordered all combat-capable Valkyries into search patterns above the city, and non-combat to make up missing posters with his likeness.</p><p> </p><p>(Perspective Change, Hiram)</p><p> </p><p>I don't know when I regained consciousness, but it was after I was restrained to some sort of gurney, with what appeared to be a Da Vinci surgical device, but with modifications and tools I hadn't seen before.</p><p> </p><p>“He's conscious, begin the procedure.”</p><p> </p><p>“Procedure?! What procedure?!” I had asked, the machine vrrring to life.</p><p> </p><p>'Shitshitshit.'</p><p> </p><p>An arm extended for mine, a needle outstretched. I felt the jab, but no pain around the site.</p><p>A tingling flowed down my arm, and the machine followed. A scalpel replaced the needle, the tingle reaching my chest. Careful, precision, purposeful slicing and peeling, followed by the scalpel being swapped for a tool that I now know is for integrating prosthetics into the nervous system. The prosthetic? A trait weapon, for which aero model I didn't know. The scalpel out again, slicing around my chest and abdomen. A metallic skin, soft yet strong, was grafted onto my arm, the tingling now across my whole body. Multiple arms, with both scalpels and integrators, unfurled from the machine, carefully slicing away and grafting alien limbs and structures to me, save for my head and groin. The parts of me modified by the machine had feeling, whereas the untouched none, not even the tingle.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> A new device swung out from the Da Vince machine, one whose function I wouldn't know, but not for long. Parts of it swung open, revealing a macabre sight, a skeletal negative of the human face. It latched around my head, scalpels and integrators cutting away and replacing my nose, ears, lips, and portions of my jaw. Then, blindness. I could feel..... </span>
  <em>something</em>
  <span> happening with my eyes, but wasn't able to tell what.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>It had released my head afterwards, alien sensations flooding my mind. I could sense things around me, not just those in my field of view, but behind me. There was a door behind me, guards on the far side flanking it. The Da Vinci surgical device swung a large mechanism out from within, and positioned it above my groin.</p><p> </p><p>And the crack that followed when it slammed it down, I could tell my pelvis was fractured. The sensations of the scalpels working were strange and unpleasant. The integrators, equally peculiar.</p><p> </p><p>I felt forced arousal induced by it, and the assembly pulled away.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> I was barely hard yet I was nearly my erect length! The arousal strengthened, my length reaching thirteen inches, before I felt something shift. In my distraction, the gurney's restraints had either failed or released me. A hand went below my length, and testes the size of golf balls hung below. Thoughts flooded my mind, unbidden. All involving Alex. Seeing her below me, hearing her plead for my seed, seeing her swell with my offspring. A suction formed around my length, and massaged. I tried to resist, but each pull, each tug drew me closer to the edge, closer to breeding Alex, claiming her womb as mine. I had fantasized of her while it massaged me, to the point where I truly though I was fucking her like an animal in rut. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>“Hu he ha he ha..... Ah fuck, Alex, you'r-re so-oo-o tight! I'm gonna blow if you don't slow down!”</p><p> </p><p>“Breed me Hiram, breed me like the bitch in heat I am! Make me swell with your kids!”</p><p> </p><p>Grunting, I managed to regain some control, only for the machine around my cock to speed up and increase its fevor. “OH FUUUUUCKKKKKK!” VRRRRRRRRT!</p><p> </p><p>My head shook during the climax, spent casings pouring down my cheek. I don't know when I ended, but a flashing display across my vision read: “Ejaculation volume: three pints. Sperm Density: Two hundred trillion per milliliter of ejaculate. Estimated impregnation success chance: Ninety-nine-point-nine-nine repeating percent.”</p><p> </p><p>After that release, I couldn't stay conscious.</p><p> </p><p>(Perspective Change, Alex)</p><p> </p><p>“Flight Admiral?”</p><p> </p><p>“What is it Lieutenant?”</p><p> </p><p>“We found a male F-16 aero, whose transponder is ID'ing him as Hiram Anderson, a Breeder F-16.”</p><p> </p><p>“Where is he?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Kirchhoff Park, over by Parkview Elementary.”</p><p> </p><p>“Move! Out of my way!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> I could care less about being polite right now. He's been missing for </span>
  <em>two whole weeks</em>
  <span>, and he's been found as an F-16 in a place I checked thrice personally?! Someone's gonna pay for this, but I don't know who.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>The blades upon my back unfolded as I ran out of the building, feet slamming the ground with a dull thudding, like a sledgehammer being dropped against concrete from waist-height, the engines built into my ribcage whining to life as I cleared the doors.</p><p> </p><p>'Clack-clack-clack-clack' was the only thing heard from me as I prepared for dust-off, the rotor locking into form.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>(Perspective Change, Hiram)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Hhhhhnn, my head. What did I get into la-” I started to say, only to be stopped by the color of my hand.</p><p> </p><p>“WHAT THE EVERLOVING FUCK?!” That's when it came back to me. All I could remember.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Oh no. Oh </span>
  <em>fuck </em>
  <span>no.” Alex. I </span>
  <em>need</em>
  <span> to find Alex. “Alex!” I screamed, desperate to get airborne.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Hiram! Where the hell were you?!” I heard from behind me, not remembering about the radar in my nose.</p><p> </p><p>“Alex!”</p><p> </p><p>All I could do to stop from breaking down was to hug her tightly. A part of me wanted to pin her, breed her, make her mine, but I could resist, for now.</p><p> </p><p>“H-Hiram? Are..... Are you alright?” I shook my head as best I could, trying hard not to collapse to my knees in tears, “They didn't keep you conscious throughout the procedure, did they?”</p><p> </p><p>“Th-they di-id. I-it fel-lt stra-ng-ge. I do-on't want to feel it ag-gain.”</p><p> </p><p>“Easy Hiram, easy. Let's get you home. Lieutenant?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes Flight Admiral?”</p><p> </p><p>“Contact the Valparaiso Guard, tell them they're in need of a new Watch Commander. Hiram's in no condition for a frontline command.”</p><p> </p><p>“Understood Flight Admiral.”</p><p> </p><p>(Perspective Change, third person)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It took several hours of cuddling with Alex and watching childhood movies for Hiram to calm down enough to be coherent. All the while his body released pheromones subtly affecting Alex's biology to handle her coming role as broodmother.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Hiram, what </span>
  <em>exactly</em>
  <span> did they do to you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>“They..... They made me hyper virile. Made it so every ejaculation was three pints, and every milliliter packed with sperm, I don't remember the number”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Good god. Not even an X-series craft <em>wouldn't </em>be gravid after that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Made it so I'm thirteen at full mast, not sure what I look like.”</p><p> </p><p>“That can be found out later. Anything else of note?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not that I can think of. I've got some sort of x-ray vision, though. I can't see x-rays, but I can see through walls and doors, even if they're behind me.”</p><p> </p><p>“A functional radar? That's..... an odd choice for a Breeder Aero.”</p><p> </p><p>“Breeder Aero?”</p><p> </p><p>“An aeromorph that's usually used by slavers and-slash-or paramilitary gangs to breed us like animals.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.”</p><p> </p><p>“Anything else about your modifications?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, when I climaxed in the facility, my vision went wavy, when I wasn't blinded by pleasure.”</p><p> </p><p>All throughout this conversation, the two had gotten closer and closer to one another, Hiram taking up more and more space above her, the couch gently bending her blades, only now does she realize something's wrong.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “That tells me you have a trait weapon affixed to your skull.” Alex had stated, gently booping Hiram on the nose in a playfully teasing manner. “And we're really, </span>
  <em>really</em>
  <span> close. Almost like....” She trailed off, a hand coming to rest on his shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>“Huh?” He looks down, promptly getting a nose full of boob.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey! That.... felt weird. Tingly weird.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Little does she know that sensation would develop into an irresistable lust for Hiram, and </span>
  <em>only</em>
  <span> Hiram.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Hiram, not used to his new body, looks up when she exclaims, and drags the tip of his nose across her nipple, eliciting a moan from the helimorph.</p><p> </p><p>“H-Hiram, please. More.”</p><p> </p><p>“M-more?” He asks meekly, eyes darting from her eyes to her breasts, not noticing the heart-shaped pupils in her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, more, or do I have to pull the G-string off?”</p><p> </p><p>He reaches up with his right hand, squeezes her breast, before taking her mouth with his.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Mffm?! Mffmnnnnmnmmm.” She moans, pushing her chest up into his gropes, his fingers peeling away the pastie on her breast. He breaks the kiss, a whine of disappointment leaving Alex.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Don't worry, my queen, there's </span>
  <em>far</em>
  <span> more where that came from.” Hiram said, a predatory grin slipping onto his face slowly, his eyes shifting in color to a deep blue, a subtle glow lighting up his cheeks, almost in a flush.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>“Please, d-don't stop. Don't stop squeezing my breast, milk me for all I'm worth.” 'What am I saying?! I know I love him, but I'm not this horny...... Not usually.'</p><p> </p><p>“Ah-ah-ah-ah, let's save that for the kids, shall we?”</p><p> </p><p>“Kids?” She asked, breathless, her breast being massaged still.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, K-I-D-S. Kids, as in offspring, the next generation of aeromorphs.” Hiram replied, beginning the kiss again.</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes went wide as he kissed her again, this time far more actively, passionately. She felt his hand jump to her unattended breast, and tear the pastie off. The sensation of it coming off aroused her, excited her beyond belief.</p><p> </p><p>Her hands ran all across his chest, rubbing at his toned pecs, his muscles seeming to reshape themselves to her ideal. She tried pushing against him, only to starve herself momentarily of his lips.</p><p> </p><p>She could feel his hand slide down her body to her waist, his thumbs loop under her G-string's band, and oh-so-agonizingly slowly push it down. Something came over her, an idea of sorts.</p><p> </p><p>She pushed on one of his shoulders, to which he rolled over onto his back. She sat above him, grinding against a sheath she could have sworn he lacked when they found him. Slowly, a length came out, throbbing in time with his heartbeat.</p><p> </p><p>She dismounted, an urge to lick it growing in her, to which she could not say no to. Immediately, it swelled forward two inches, and widened by a good half-inch. She posed against a wall after pulling Hiram up to his feet, and pulled her Indiana State Torch G-string down past her knees.</p><p> </p><p>Hiram slammed his hands against the wall, a feral, lustful look in his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>In a thick Russian accent, filled with the timbre of a tube amp, she said, “You American dog thinks he can breed one of Russia's greatest aircraft? You ca-” only to be cut off by a sloppy, passionate kiss. Her pupils dilate, shift and change color to a pink heart outline.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “You bet your ass I can, especially with </span>
  <em>this</em>
  <span>.” he returns, glancing down for but a moment. Standing proudly, at fifteen inches in length, tapering from an inch at the tip to a bitch-breaking three at the base. Along the crown laid bare were barbs, dull and fleshy in appearance, merging with scutes that flowed into more dull thorns, nearly a necklace around his length, growing larger the closer they were to his base. His glans was shaped much like his skull, little winglets fading into the ring of barbs, a bulge atop it, his meatus hidden beneath the cone-like tip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>“By Lenin........ Is this why so many American planes fill the skies?”</p><p> </p><p>“Only part.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> He kisses her again, full of romance and purpose, before pulling her hips towards him and thrusting, almost to the hilt. She squeals from the pleasure, climaxing from the first thrust alone. Her legs wrap around him, and he slowly pulls her away from the wall. Timing his thrust with every footfall, he draws more orgasms from her, breaking the kiss to let her babble until he lays her on his bed, testicles swelling with seed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>“Breed me American, make this ex-Soviet your bitch!”</p><p> </p><p>He spins her around his length slowly, raising a leg of hers to above his head, hands fwumping onto the bed on either side of her neck, and latches onto one of her nipples and starts suckling, her breasts refusing to yield any milk, but swell to taut E-cups.</p><p> </p><p>The sounds and scent of sex fill the air, stealing control from the both of them. His cock slows, his thrusts become moring powerful. Her slit, ceases orgasming, only building for it. Her head whips back and forth, a hand darting to his neck and caressing the back of it while her other clamps around his wrist.</p><p> </p><p><span><span> Little gasps of pleasure leave her as he bottoms out within her, in time with each of his thrusts, a growl rolling up from his throat quietly, thwaping coming from where their pleasure is radiating from. Soon her other hand bolts from his wrist to grip alongside the one on his neck, drawing his lips to hers, a whisper dancing across them for a naught but a moment, “H-hiram, </span></span>Ya liublyoo tibya bol’she fsivo na sveti.” (I love you more than anything)</p><p> </p><p>A muffled sound came from Hiram as she kissed him again, his thrusting going from the pure breeding strength, hammering away, into sensuous, slow thrusts, just as impactful, just as strong, his lower back arching gently. A hand moved from beside her neck to her waist, fingers squeezing gently as he began to speed up, the sound echoing gently throughout the quarters, the bed creaking.</p><p> </p><p>An arm looped below Alex's waist, the hand on it moving to her posterior, fingers sinking into it, the arm lifting her up as he broke the kiss, the brightness of his irises gently highlighting her own. Hiram engaged her lips again, her hands tracing from the back of his neck to cradle his cheeks, her own flushing slightly, an off-color pink spreading across them slowly, a warmth developing upon her chest, gentle pecking coming from them both as they fought for the right to initiate a lover's soul kiss, a groan from Hiram causing him to loose the battle.</p><p> </p><p>His voice came into her head, a gentle echo as it spoke, the tone telling her it was very much real, “I need you, Alex. Y-you've made my life actually worth living, a-and-!”</p><p> </p><p>He was cut off by something, his thrusts clapping against her as the growl was caught in his throat, his knot swelling within her, a gasp resonating from Alex as she shivered, eyes squeezing shut before she threw her head back, a deep, deep moan leaving her. She rolled her head back forward, hands darting to Hiram's waist from his cheeks, eyes fluttering open, glowing vibrantly pink, her pupils flashing in time with her heart.</p><p> </p><p>Her tail curled up around him as she came dangerously close to the edge, feeling the pleasure of her orgasm flood her mind, legs clamping around his hips as he grew within her slowly, minute thrusts plapping as he shivered, both arms squeezing Alex to him, fingers clamping around her shoulder before he stopped pounding away, grinding gently.</p><p> </p><p>Alex's eyes slowly widened as he expanded within her, before they rolled back completely, his breeding thrusts coming back with a vengeance, his tip pushing against her sanctum's final gate.</p><p> </p><p>“B-breed, breed! Make Alex gravid!” Came from Hiram, his knot sending her into a frenzy, head draped over his shoulder, arms darting under his and hands clamping on his neck, ankles crossed and pressed tightly, her tail curling even tighter, a whimper leaving her as Hiram pounded his way to his own orgasm, his arms squeezing her in a bear-hug, his eyes rolling back as he was granted entrance within her, a roaring howl leaving him as his cannon roared, Alex's chingun splaying to her right and firing into the bed in unison.</p><p> </p><p>Muffled fwushing could be heard from within her, her belly expanding slightly as he filled her, her eyes squeezed tight as he bit down on her shoulder, the glow from his irises shining through his eyelids, the canopy doing nothing to stop it.</p><p> </p><p>They relaxed their grip on one another slowly, their eyes matching the speed as they came down from the high that was orgasm, panting like they had both just sprinted a marathon in record time. Alex brought her hands from his waist, placing one on his cheek, the other on his shoulder as he relinquished his nip on her, the nanites in her blood causing the wound to close mere seconds after.</p><p> </p><p>“Fsio f paryatke?” (Everything alright?) Alex asked, pants in-between words, a small trail of milk down either breast as he softly extracated his arms from beneath her, eyes lidded seductively, her irises back to their original color.</p><p> </p><p>“I-i think so, My Hind~, I think so.” the now-soon-to-be father replied, a long huff leaving him through previously-unseen nostrils, little flaps on either side of his canopy -just in front of his eyes- popping up, a slight stutter in his speech as he recovered.</p><p> </p><p>“Want to actually cuddle now?” Alex asked, a quiet chortle shortly after the question.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Tomorrow we can tell the Guard what went down j-just now. Omitting the very juicy bits, of course.” Hiram returned, kissing her softly, breaking it gently as he rolled off Alex and pulling her on top of him, the helimorph already snoring slightly. “You're cute when you sleep, you know that?”</p>
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